Ed's Gregarius » 35 Degrees

35 Degrees (85 unread)

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Auditioning for E.T [2]

Fetched: October 12th, 2008, 7:01pm PDT

pa href=http://www.flickr.com/photos/kinkimcg/2874981974/ title=Auditioning for E.T by KinkiMcG, on Flickrimg src=http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3087/2874981974_db0cbb6a33_m.jpg width=180 height=240 alt=Auditioning for E.T //a/p
Mata ne [3]

Fetched: October 5th, 2008, 7:01pm PDT

pa href=http://www.flickr.com/photos/kinkimcg/2883615203/ title=Sept 08 High Vibes BW by KinkiMcG, on Flickrimg src=http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3169/2883615203_b935e7b20d_m.jpg width=240 height=182 alt=Sept 08 High Vibes BW //a/p pMcG left for Sydney today for Web Directions South – leaving a little girl who asks rhetorically every half an hour “Where’s Daddy? Daddy’s at work. In the airplane in the skoi. Makin’ the money. So we can buy strawberries.” It is her mantra. Bless./p
I killed the iPod... [2]

Fetched: October 5th, 2008, 7:01pm PDT

p...but I swear it was in self-defence./p pimg src=http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3249/2864736655_3f76f40b07_m.jpgbr / span class=image-labelShuffling off this mortal coil/span/p pEver wondered what an iPod would look like if it went through a wash (delicate cycle, but nonetheless)? /p pWonder no more./p
Her First High Heels [1]

Fetched: October 5th, 2008, 7:01pm PDT

pimg src=http://35degrees.com/images/198t.jpg alt= width=350 height=218 / /p pI wish I didn’t love a href=http://www.heelarious.com/sophie.phpthese/a. So, so wrong on so, so many levels but so, so feckin’ adorable. Would I ever put my child in a pair? Ahem, NO, are you frikkin’ kidding me? /p pI actually want them for myself. Such guilty pleasures…/p
Babysitter's Club [1]

Fetched: October 5th, 2008, 7:01pm PDT

pAs a Babysitter I would have made a great mum. I’ve never been particularly “maternal” but picked up the occasional babysitting job when I was an impoverished Uni student in Queensland. /p pIt was easy money – $10 an hour (yes, this was a long time ago) and mostly it was kinder-aged dolls who played with my hair for an hour or so before passing out in a post-hair-playing-stupor. I did have a rather hardcore babysitting job all day Sunday looking after 5 kids from age 2 to 11. Yes, 5 kids. Age 2 to 11. But all I can say is kudos to the friggin’ Little Mermaid – she saved my arse when I was lying flat on my back after an overdose of trampolining with 2 very energetic pre-pubescent Montessori girls. God Bless You, Ariel, God Bless You./p pToday, I just felt like recounting my most memorable babysitting experience. It was for the Vice Chancellor of U of Q and his socialite wife – nice enough people, but the wife had a DIET, yes, a DIET on their fridge for their 6 year old daughter (the one who loved to play with my hair). She was a lovely little girl with a bit of baby fat, but no more than any other 6 YEAR OLD, so this amazed me./p pThe VC had 2 kids, the other being a 4 year old boy (still in nappies, but I can’t talk yet – Scout has no inclination whatsoever of losing the nappies and she’s 2.5) let’s call him “Tacker”, who had….. issues. Now I don’t want to question the parenting skills of his mum and dad, because at the time, I was hardly a paragon of maternal instincts, but ah fuckit, what the hell – his parents had raised an extreme tantrum-throwing screamer who would go MENTAL if I asked him to do anything. Which, as it turns out, is quite normal for a toddler, only I didn’t know that at the time./p pOne day, though, when I arrived at their posh-o house, I must have scared little Tacker as he was watching his third hour of TV, and he spun around and started SCREAMING “She HIT ME! SHE HIT MEEEEEE!!!!!” Omigod. I threw my hands up like a slapstick movie criminal in an “I didn’t do it” pose and the mum, well, she knew he was foxing and said “don’t worry about it”, but still, omigod. What 4 year old has that in his box of tackle, I ask you? The She Bloody Well Hit Me vibe, don’t leave me mummy or THAT IMPOVERISHED ARTS STUDENT LADY WILL HIT ME AGAIN! /p pFunny thing is, at the time I thought he was a total little bratty shit, but looking back on it as a mum now my heart goes out to him. His parents were out on the voluptuous party circuit every second night (and that’s not an understatement) – of COURSE HE HAD THAT IN HIS BOX OF TACKLE. What normal, self-respecting child would not?/p pSo, any babysitting horror stories out there? I’m in the mood for some vicarious living…/p
Mata ne [1]

Fetched: October 2nd, 2008, 1:01pm PDT

pa href=http://www.flickr.com/photos/kinkimcg/2883615203/ title=Sept 08 High Vibes BW by KinkiMcG, on Flickrimg src=http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3169/2883615203_b935e7b20d_m.jpg width=240 height=182 alt=Sept 08 High Vibes BW //a/p pMcG left for Sydney today for Web Directions South – leaving a little girl who asks rhetorically every half an hour “Where’s Daddy? Daddy’s at work. In the airplane in the skoi. Makin’ the money. So we can buy strawberries.” It is her mantra. Bless./p
Mata ne

Fetched: September 24th, 2008, 6:01am PDT

pa href=http://www.flickr.com/photos/kinkimcg/2883615203/ title=Sept 08 High Vibes BW by KinkiMcG, on Flickrimg src=http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3169/2883615203_b935e7b20d_m.jpg width=240 height=182 alt=Sept 08 High Vibes BW //a/p pMcG left for Sydney today for Web Directions South – leaving a little girl who asks rhetorically every half an hour “Where’s Daddy? Daddy’s at work. In the airplane in the skoi. Makin’ the money. So we can buy strawberries.” It is her mantra. Bless./p
Auditioning for E.T [1]

Fetched: September 23rd, 2008, 6:01am PDT

pa href=http://www.flickr.com/photos/kinkimcg/2874981974/ title=Auditioning for E.T by KinkiMcG, on Flickrimg src=http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3087/2874981974_db0cbb6a33_m.jpg width=180 height=240 alt=Auditioning for E.T //a/p
Auditioning for E.T

Fetched: September 22nd, 2008, 6:01am PDT

pa href=http://www.flickr.com/photos/kinkimcg/2874981974/ title=Auditioning for E.T by KinkiMcG, on Flickrimg src=http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3087/2874981974_db0cbb6a33_m.jpg width=180 height=240 alt=Auditioning for E.T //a/p
Her First High Heels

Fetched: September 20th, 2008, 7:02pm PDT

pimg src=http://35degrees.com/images/198t.jpg alt= width=350 height=218 / /p pI wish I didn’t love a href=http://www.heelarious.com/sophie.phpthese/a. So, so wrong on so, so many levels but so, so feckin’ adorable. Would I ever put my child in a pair? Ahem, NO, are you frikkin’ kidding me? /p pI actually want them for myself. Such guilty pleasures…/p
I killed the iPod... [1]

Fetched: September 20th, 2008, 7:02pm PDT

p...but I swear it was in self-defence./p pimg src=http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3249/2864736655_3f76f40b07_m.jpgbr / span class=image-labelShuffling off this mortal coil/span/p pEver wondered what an iPod would look like if it went through a wash (delicate cycle, but nonetheless)? /p pWonder no more./p
Babysitter's Club

Fetched: September 11th, 2008, 7:01am PDT

As a Babysitter I would have made a great mum. I’ve never been particularly “maternal” but picked up the occasional babysitting job when I was an impoverished Uni student in Queensland.

It was easy money – $10 an hour (yes, this was a long time ago) and mostly it was kinder-aged dolls who played with my hair for an hour or so before passing out in a post-hair-playing-stupor. I did have a rather hardcore babysitting job all day Sunday looking after 5 kids from age 2 to 11. Yes, 5 kids. Age 2 to 11. But all I can say is kudos to the friggin’ Little Mermaid – she saved my arse when I was lying flat on my back after an overdose of trampolining with 2 very energetic pre-pubescent Montessori girls. God Bless You, Ariel, God Bless You.

Today, I just felt like relaying my most awful babysitting experience. It was for the Vice Chancellor of U of Q and his socialite wife – nice enough people, but the wife had a DIET, yes, a DIET on their fridge for their 6 year old daughter (the one who loved to play with my hair). She was a lovely little girl with a bit of baby fat, but no more than any other 6 YEAR OLD, so this amazed me.

The VC had 2 kids, the other being a 4 year old boy (still in nappies, but I can’t talk yet – Scout has no inclination whatsoever of losing the nappies and she’s 2.5) let’s call him “Tacker”, who had….. issues. Now I don’t want to question the parenting skills of his mum and dad, because at the time, I was hardly a paragon of maternal instincts, but ah fuckit, what the hell – his parents had raised an extreme tantrum-throwing screamer who would go MENTAL if I asked him to do anything. Which, as it turns out, is quite normal for a toddler, only I didn’t know that at the time.

One day, though, when I arrived at their posh-o house, I must have scared little Tacker as he was watching his third hour of TV, and he spun around and started SCREAMING “She HIT ME! SHE HIT MEEEEEE!!!!!” Omigod. I threw my hands up like a slapstick movie criminal in an “I didn’t do it” pose and the mum, well, she knew he was foxing and said “don’t worry about it”, but still, omigod. What 4 year old has that in his box of tackle, I ask you? The She Bloody Well Hit Me vibe, don’t leave me mummy or THAT IMPOVERISHED ARTS STUDENT LADY WILL HIT ME AGAIN!

Funny thing is, at the time I thought he was a total little bratty shit, but looking back on it as a mum now my heart goes out to him. His parents were out on the voluptuous party circuit every second night (and that’s not an understatement) – of COURSE HE HAD THAT IN HIS BOX OF TACKLE. What normal, self-respecting child would not?

So, any babysitting horror stories out there? I’m in the mood for some vicarious living…
In the Garden [2]

Fetched: September 11th, 2008, 7:01am PDT

Scout is obsessed with the “wormies”. We got her early into the reuse and recycle philosophy – we have a small food scraps bin on the kitchen bench and she is really good at putting her food scraps (alas, mainly veges) into the bin to “feed the wormies”.

Pay day is when mummy or daddy take her out to the compost bin/worm farm to feed the wormies. And sometimes the two mice that live in our neighbour’s shed. There are hundreds of the little critters (worms that is, not mice) and Scout is obsessed with them. Heaven forbid we buy her a pony.

Now we just have to figure out how to instill in her the philosophy of not letting litres of water go down the plughole while she’s fartarsing around brushing her teeth…
In the Garden [1]

Fetched: September 10th, 2008, 4:01pm PDT

Scout is obsessed with the “wormies”. We got her early into the reuse and recycle philosophy – we have a small food scraps bin on the kitchen bench and she is really good at putting her food scraps (alas, mainly veges) into the bin to “feed the wormies”.

Pay day is when mummy or daddy take her out to the compost bin/worm farm to feed the wormies. And sometimes the two mice that live in our neighbour’s shed. There are hundreds of the little critters (worms that is, not mice) and Scout is obsessed with them. Heaven forbid we buy her a pony.

Now we just have to figure out how to instill in her the philosophy of not letting litres of water go down the plughole while she’s fartarsing around brushing her teeth…
The Cat sat on the Matt

Fetched: September 5th, 2008, 4:02pm PDT

I asked Scout yesterday what she thought daddy really wanted for Father’s Day.

Her reply?

Beer. And whiskers.
Rude Cow

Fetched: September 5th, 2008, 4:02pm PDT

This morning, Scout and I went along with some of the other mums from mother’s group to a “Dancing” session at Fairfield Library.

There were about 30 kids there, with their parents – half of the kids were reluctant to dance, including Scout who looked truly freaked out by this hardcore woman wearing a leotard, yelling commands and singing off key with dodgy hand gestures that she was “encouraging” them to follow.

She kept stopping the music asking the mums and dads to stop talking. Fair enough, but half of those recalcitrant parents were actually just trying to get their kids to dance in the easiest way possible – communicating with them (noooo!)

Scout was snuggling into me on the sidelines, very uncharacteristic for her as she is the first to perform in front of a bunch of kids – I’m guessing she found the whole atmosphere a bit confronting, as you would if you were two.

Then our silly dancing twit, who had the child interaction skills of a slug, stopped the music, huffed a bit and said to the parents who’d coughed up $6 for the privilege of being shouted at:

“If you can’t stop talking, then go out into the corridor where we can see you but can’t hear you or PUT A SHOE IN YOUR MOUTH.”

Omigod, Scout and I left at that point – and as I left I muttered to the woman at the door “Rude Cow”, hoping that I’d say it loud enough for her to hear, but she was off on a dancing tangent, busy shouting at the kids to PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR LIE DOWN SLEEPING! 1 2 3 WAAAAAAKE UUUUUUUP. ROUND AND ROUND WALKING WALKING WALKING ROUND AND ROUND LIE DOWN 1 2 3 WAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE UUUUUUUUUP.
Honestly [2]

Fetched: September 5th, 2008, 7:01am PDT

Mums stay home or ‘baby’s brain suffers

...if you’re going to continue to make mothers feel crap and inadequate because they are not doing everything possible for their child in spite of the majority doing their absolute best, then for fuck’s sake, shut the hell up and actually do something about it rather than wanking on about how we are disadvantaging our children right out of the blocks. This whole “mums should have 2 years of maternity leave” rhetoric feels like a carrot being dangled, doomed to rot in the mire of the vege crisper, whilst we are left looking for ways to assuage our guilt.

Look, I understand the theory (no doubt a competing theory will arise refuting it) and in an ideal sublime culture where no-one has to pay a mortgage and has a carer on hand should this full-time parent need a rest from the constant demands of a baby/toddler, then theorise til hell has a home in heaven.

I couldn’t have managed one-on-one care for 2 years with Scout – I would have gone totally mental. Would that have been good for her cognitive development? I don’t think I would have taken up the offer of 2 years of maternity leave, but then having a child was my choice so whilst I appreciate my child care rebate, thank you very much, I also don’t expect the tax-payer to pay for 2 years of
me being at home.

And what of the dads? Is their role redundant now? I know of couples (not many) where the dad stays home with bubs and mum goes out to hunt and gather – I bloody well salute them and doubt their kids are suffering cognitively.

End. Rant.
Sombre Day [1]

Fetched: September 3rd, 2008, 4:01pm PDT

OK, so I’m a bit hormonal, but a couple of things happened today that made me quite reflective and sad.

First, one of Scout’s beloved carers at creche is leaving to go back to South Korea. I went along to the morning tea they had for her (parents were invited, although I was the only parent there which was a bit bloody awkward, but hell! carry on etc.!) and as I left gave Soo a big hug. Soo is very stoic, very humble, never makes a fuss, not a particularly genki type but obviously adores my daughter so I found this whole thing really quite hard. I got teary. And a bit embarassed. But I somehow think it was all very much appreciated.

Got home and continued my working day – come 4pm, I receive an email from my manager letting me know that one of my colleagues had died suddenly during a freak horse-riding accident. She had 3 young kids. Now, to tell the truth, she and I had never really gotten along – we used to work together quite closely and we just dealt with people differently, I suppose – nothing earth-shattering, I didn’t dislike her, but we were simply never going to be bosom-buddies. Over the years, as we ceased to need to work together we ceased fire and exchanged social civilities.

Her death really shook me. Not as a colleague. But as a mum. I felt devastated for her kids, for that there is no doubt, but I felt for her as a mum… sad that she’d never get to hold her kids again, that she’d never get to know them as teenagers (perhaps thankful for some), really really sad. A lot of it was selfish – putting my own trivialities into perspective and appreciating every single second I spent with my daughter – absorbing her laughter, laughing at her antics until the sad tears became happy ones.

Until tomorrow, of course, when life will no doubt get in the way again and I forget I ever had that insight.
Honestly [1]

Fetched: September 3rd, 2008, 7:01am PDT

Mums stay home or ‘baby’s brain suffers

...if you’re going to continue to make mothers feel crap and inadequate because they are not doing everything possible for their child in spite of the majority doing their absolute best, then for fuck’s sake, shut the hell up and actually do something about it rather than wanking on about how we are disadvantaging our children right out of the blocks.

Look, I understand the theory (no doubt a competing theory will arise refuting it) and in an ideal sublime culture where no-one has to pay a mortgage and has a carer on hand should this full-time parent need a rest from the constant demands of a baby/toddler, then theorise til hell has a home in heaven.

I couldn’t have managed one-on-one care for 2 years with Scout – I would have gone totally mental. Would that have been good for her cognitive development?. Most mums do the best they can.

And what of the dads? Is their role redundant now? I know of couples (not many) where the dad stays home with bubs and mum goes out to hunt and gather – I bloody well salute them and doubt their kids are suffering cognitively.

End. Rant.
Honestly

Fetched: September 2nd, 2008, 4:01pm PDT

Mums stay home or ‘baby’s brain suffers

...if you’re going to continue to make mothers feel crap and inadequate because they are not doing everything possible for their child in spite of the majority doing their absolute best, then for fuck’s sake, shut the hell up and actually do something about it rather than wanking on about how we are disadvantaging our children right out of the blocks.

Look, I understand the theory (no doubt a competing theory will arise refuting it) and in an ideal sublime culture where no-one has to pay a mortgage and has a carer on hand should this full-time parent need a rest from the constant demands of a baby/toddler, then theorise til hell has a home in heaven.

I couldn’t have managed one-on-one care for 2 years with Scout – I would have gone totally mental. Would that have been good for her cognitive development?. Most mums do the best they can.

And what of the dads? Is their role redundant now? I know of couples (not many) where the dad stays home with bubs and mum goes out to hunt and gather – I bloody well salute them and doubt their kids are suffering cognitively.

End. Rant.
The Great Debate

Fetched: August 30th, 2008, 7:01pm PDT

Mem Fox slams parents who leave newborns in care

I’m not really going to enter into this debate (ha ha – tricked you), as it’s probably one of the more heated topics amongst mums. My theory and you can disagree with me here, is that everything in moderation. There are pros and cons of sending your child to childcare, there are pros and cons of having them at home with you 24/7.

What I’ll agree with Mem here (and really, who can possibly put up a feeble fight against the woman responsible for Possum Magic and the Magic Hat?) is that putting babies of a few weeks old into care is awful. Awful. My question is – at what age does your child become “acceptable” to put in creche?

I put Scout into care for 3 days a week when she was one year old (she’s in 4 days now). Was that too young? I felt guilty for a couple of weeks, then I got over it, because I have to say our relationship improved because my sense of wellbeing improved. I’m not cut out for 24/7 c

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35 Degrees (85 unread)

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